What If I Am?
by djmichealsfics
Summary: The greatest journey always begins with a single step.


**Author's Notes: This is the first fic based on my prompt chart, prompt #42 friend, and from my wip meme. I have been working on it for ages.  
Disclaimer:All recognizable characters belong to CBS and DPB. No money is being made off their use.**

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He couldn't count the number of nights he had repeated this same sequence of events over and over again, a routine really, that was happening more and more frequently. File the reports after a long, exhausting case, go home to get cleaned up, and make the drive to his friend's, stopping only to pick up food and drink.

They'd sit, eating then, eventually, drinking beer or scotch or rotgut in silence. Some nights would pass where they wouldn't say a word, and some nights were spent in gentle companionship, sharing glances and smiles and occasional comments about their likes or dislikes.

Some nights when the liquor had loosened their tongues, they would share their secrets. Dirty, terrible secrets. Secrets that suck at your soul and threaten to rip your heart out. Secrets you only share with one person, the only person you truly trust. He could only trust *him* with the secrets that were locked behind the goofy, fumbling facade.

Then, when the liquor had done its job and there was nothing else to be said, he'd drag his friend to his room, make him comfortable in his solitary bed, leave a glass of water and Tylenol on the bedside table, make the trek to his lonely home, and fall into bed.

The next day would dawn and the entire terrible thing would start anew. They never made mention of the previous day. Over and over again in a horrible, relentless cycle, bleak, depressing days followed with evenings filled with liquor and sometimes food, that seemingly had no end..

And the real kick in the ass is that he could stop it. He could put an end to the cycle, by himself, or at least his part of the cycle. It was a simple thing. Really. All he had to do was just one simple thing, one easy thing.

All he had to do was not show up. Don't make the drive, don't pick up food, don't pick up the elixir of horribleness, that fire water. Just don't. And it was the one thing that he could not do. He had never failed the other man, never let his friend down. He was always there for him. He could not notshow up.

After all of this time, in their own screwed up way, they had a relationship. They were slowly drifting towards this... whatever this was. And his friend had begun to expect it, he expected him to show up.

It wasn't just the evenings spent drinking. There were dinners out where invitations were presented in terms of "I'm thinking of getting..., you wanna?" There were afternoons or evenings spent at sporting events, where tickets were found in his coat pocket or inside the cover of a book he was reading or they'd arrive in a brown envelope in the mail.

Sometimes they would share a look and he could see the gleam in those expressive eyes. Anyone who said his friend had an inscrutable mask had never looked in his eyes and -saw- the real man behind the mask.

It was on those nights or afternoons, when he would catch a glimpse of the real man, that it was the hardest. Those were the times when he wanted to lean in and taste the smile or kiss away the pain in those expressive eyes. He wanted to declare his true feelings, his love.

But then, what would happen if he said those three little words, I love you? What would his friend think about it? Not just the declaration of his amorous feelings, but the fact that it was him making the declaration? What would he do? Would he let him down easy? Would he make a joke of it? Would he cut him out of his life entirely, save for those times when he had to interact at work?

Does he dare to cross that line, both imaginary and real, to try to create a bridge between their hearts? Would it make them happier? Or worse? Would he lose a friend or find love? Was the risk worth the reward? It could be. They could trade in a lifetime of loneliness and being alone. Trade it in for happiness, however brief it might be.

He wanted that happiness, with him. If he could find that little bit of happiness together, it would make his dreams come true.

Today was different.

There was no take out, no liquor, no tickets. Not even a shared glance to indicate that his company was wanted.

He was so nervous as he crossed the threshold. He went straight to the kitchen without a word, slammed down a glass of water in one long gulp, sloshing the water over the edge and down his chin. He perched on the opposite end of the couch from his bemused friend, silently watching. Took a deep breath, then another as he fisted his shaking hands and hid them behind his back.

He couldn't help the loud swallow, the wavering in his voice, as shaky as his hands. "Tony?"

He took another deep breath, a fast gasp of air, then another, panicking. His next fast breath was interrupted by a warm hand on his knee. He traced the path of the warm hand with his eyes, up the strong forearm, muscled bicep, across the broad shoulders, up to the other man's face.

Tony's eyes that were glittering with an emotion that he hadn't let himself look for before, and there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The hand cupped behind his neck was gently pulling him forward into the gentlest, softest of kisses.

"Relax, Jimmy."  



End file.
